


In the Shadows

by abrae



Series: In the Fullness of Time [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Pining Sherlock, Post-His Last Vow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrae/pseuds/abrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet moment between Anna and Sherlock on her graduation day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shadows

**May, 2036**

  
"Sherlock!"

Anna spots him leaning against a far wall, arms crossed and looking for all the world like he would rather be anywhere else. But she knows - by the press of his trousers and the muted shine of his shoes, by the stillness of his nervous fingers and the way he tries to smother his smile - that he's been planning this. She abandons her small group of friends and runs to him, her graduation gown billowing around her like a bat whose wings are too big for its body, and Sherlock can't help but break into a real smile at the sight.

She slows, he straightens, and when Sherlock answers the question in her eyes with a nearly imperceptible nod, she throws her arms around his reedy chest and rests her blonde head against it. A paradoxical mix of sea air and cigarettes clings to the fine wool of his suit; Anna breathes it in and tears spring to her eyes. It's the smell of childhood, of late afternoon sun shimmering on the waves; brine clinging to her skin and the ineffable ache of too-short visits and too many goodbyes. 

"You came," Anna exclaims softly, and Sherlock nods.

"I wouldn't have missed it."

He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a small box, then takes her hand and places it in her upturned palm. It's heavier than it looks; she bounces it in her hand a bit, getting a sense of the thing before opening it to find what seems, at first glance, to be an antique pendant on a chain. On closer examination, Anna sees that it's in fact a magnifying glass nestled in a frame of filigreed silver. 

"Oh, Sherlock," she gasps, holding it up to the light. "It's beautiful - you shouldn't have." 

"Of course I should," he answers. Sherlock takes it from her fingers and fastens it around her neck, centering the clasp on her cervical vertebrae, then standing back with an arch, assessing glint in his eyes. "If you insist on allowing yourself to be lured by the Pied Piper of His Majesty's Government into the murky depths of MI6, the least I can do is arm you with a talisman against technological complacency."

Anna lifts the glass in her palm and smirks. 

"And this will do that? Impressive."

Sherlock laughs and Anna gives herself a tick on the mental list she keeps. 48 laughs; better than her mother and father both. Speaking of which...

"Come over and join Mum and Dad, Sherlock. We weren't sure you would come."

His smile fades slightly, eyes darting over to where her parents stand chatting with Uncle Greg and Molly. He watches them laugh over the little nothings that keep conversation going, leaning a bit in their direction as if to join them for once.

Then he seems to give himself a mental shake, looks down at Anna with affection and says softly, "Not today."

Anna at ten would have begged and wheedled until Sherlock relented. At sixteen, she might have tried - unsuccessfully - pouting or sullenness. But at twenty-two, Anna knows when it's too much; when there's more sentiment in the air than Sherlock can handle, and though it breaks her heart a bit to leave him to his loneliness, she's come to understand that it's sometimes better this way.

She gives a little sigh of disappointment, then takes Sherlock's wrinkling hand in her own smooth one and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"You were my first, you know," she says after a moment, and Sherlock's eyebrows rise in alarm.

"I'm sorry?" he stammers, and Anna laughs.

"My first love." Blushing, she raises up on tiptoes and kisses his cheek lightly. "I'll always be glad it was you."

Speechless, Sherlock stares at Anna for a time before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"You look so much like your mother," he murmurs with a soft smile, tapping his fingertip on the end of her pert nose like he used to when she was a girl. "But your eyes... "

"Like Dad," she finishes, and Sherlock gives a helpless sort of shrug.

"Beautiful," he says, his frank gaze meeting her own. The world stills around them as Anna's understanding eyes fill; then Sherlock pulls her close, kisses her gently on the forehead, and turns on his heel, walking away without a look back.


End file.
